Hour of the Gryphon - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Army

For days the courier and I had been following the army down roads pounded to mud, rutted by supply wagons and churned by thousands of hooves. I had never seen – or smelled – anything like it. Thousands of tents, campfires, wagons, horses... an ungainly sprawl that filled the bend of the river. Now, here it was, and here I was, under an assumed name, in borrowed clothing, on a borrowed horse.

I rode up, parchment in hand, feeling the cold sweat of nerves trickle down my back.

Akanaz' clothing felt distinctly odd. It fit, but it pulled in unfamiliar places over my shoulders and my bound breasts. At my hips, his belt hung at a different angle than mine would have, and his trousers buttoned the wrong way. His armor clanked in a bag behind me. My boots were my old boots, though, so I had not left everything familiar behind.

The courier saw me past the pickets and into the camp. So far as I knew, he had never suspected. He treated me with respect, offered suggestions, not orders. And he gave me practice answering to a new name. Fooling him had been surprisingly easy. Fooling my father or my fiancé would not have been possible, but they were far out along the eastern front and would not return until the fighting was done.

I would meet the General.

Ionvar was our greatest war leader. He is my father's sister's son, making him my first cousin, but I had only met him once. Tales of his exploits had been dinner-table fare during the few weeks my father had been away from the front during the winter, and his ruthlessness on the battlefield was legendary. At every turn, he routed the Chimera's devious tactics, and he matched the bandit mercenaries' viciousness blow for blow.

I would have to fool him.

With the help of my guide, I found Ionvar standing before the supply tent. It was a clear day and the afternoon sun was sharp as a sword, threw his face into high relief. He was as handsome and chilly as I remembered him. Several other officers stood with him, going over tallies. A couple looked familiar but none recognized me.

I hadn't seen Ionvar in eight years. I recalled him laughing easily at my father's table, drinking freely, speaking carelessly. War had changed him. He was around thirty, and the passage of time had sharpened his features. He looked like one long used to command, the lines of it etched under his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks. His hair was coarse, like an animal's pelt, and dressed into a dozen beaded braids on the underside, the old warriors' way of counting victories. These combined with the heavy fur mantle along the shoulders of his cloak made him look positively bestial; a throwback to the old days of savagery and blood sacrifice. He glared at everyone from a predator's amber eyes.

It would be months before he claimed the title of King, but in that moment I felt it. I knelt and he studied me for a moment, considering. A wind blew and stirred his mane. The beads in his war braids clicked. Then I saw that they were not beads, but teeth. I wanted to shiver. Time had changed him much.

"Speak," he said. His voice was rougher than I remembered.

"My lord, I am Akanaz of Hollyvale, come to take up my commission. I was to report to you, Sir." I handed him my summons.

He examined the papers, then turned his gaze to me, taking in the cut of my clothing, how the armor sat on my shoulders. His eyes lingered and I wondered if he could tell. Nobody on the road had suspected my disguise, but Ionvar was a seasoned veteran. He'd be seeing much of me. My disguise had to be not just good, but perfect. The other men looked me over, but if they'd been looking at me as a woman I'd have known. To them, I was just another boy. Barely grown. Meat for the battlefield crows.

"Aressan's son. You're younger than I thought," Ionvar said abruptly. "And small."

"I'm seventeen," I lied. "I'll grow."

He snorted. "You'd better." I was a tall girl, but for a man it was only barely average. For a man of our House, I would've qualified as short. I'd addressed this detail the same way I'd addressed my girlishly smooth skin. I simply hid it in plain sight, without doing a thing to disguise it. After all, what would a boy have done about being pretty? Ignored it, I imagined.

I passed muster, apparently, for he nodded. "I knew your father. Trustworthy fellow. Your grandfather's reputation is formidable as well. You're green, aren't you. Haven't earned your knighthood."

"No, Sir. I mean I haven't."

"No time to properly train you, and the gentry would fall down in fits if I sent you to a camp. That's fine, though. Your father wished that I squire you, green or not, and I intend to honor that wish." His cheek furrowed in a hooked grin. "Luckily, there's an opening. My second squire was promoted after the last action. You will replace him. Understand?"

"Perfectly, Sir." But my head was spinning. Most noblemen entering the army were immediately given a command. It had not occurred to me that Ionvar, with his hard-handed discipline, would not automatically put me in charge of something. I'd imagined a tent of my own, maps, tables, messengers, and privacy. I had not counted on squiring. The idea of being in such prolonged, close contact with someone who had met me, even if it had been years before, disturbed me.

But what could I do? Refuse?

"I am ready to start today, Sir." I could do it. From all I'd heard, Ionvar was not the type to tolerate pranking and horsing around. That would get my secret spilled faster than anything.

He grunted his approval. "Éremon will show you where to put your kit and explain your duties to you. I expect the best from my men. Disappoint me or fail in any way and I will see you flogged until your unborn sons squeal for mercy." He barked for his other squire, who appeared.

If Ionvar had an opposite in the male gender, Éremon was it. He was a clean-featured honey-blonde, about sixteen or seventeen, only a little taller than me but much broader. His hair was just long enough to fall in his eyes most appealingly if it wasn't tied back. And his eyes... brilliant blue, extraordinary. I drank the sight of him in, and he gave me a curious smile even as he gave me the once-over.

Love at first sight? Hell, no. But, oh, he was the sort of boy every girl dreams about. He bowed to Ionvar, who explained who I was, then dismissed us both with a wave at the sea of tents.

"Thank you, Sir," I said to my new master, who dismissed me. That was that.

I followed Éremon through the camp to a small tent which we were evidently to share. Éremon let me set up my pallet next to his. "Here's home," he said. He was from the north, from Lónan. Pretty accent. "Get used to it as fast as you can."

I sighed, feeling stupid. This was not what I'd envisioned when I'd imagined going to war. Somehow, even though I knew better, I figured it would be all hacking and killing and riding. The idea of bedrolls and whetstones and daily chores had not occurred to me. A pang of fear plucked at my ribs. Was I really ready for this?

Ah, well. Anything for the privilege of fighting for my House.

I unrolled my pack while Éremon settled in to finish rewrapping the hilt of a sword while he explained our duties. The list seemed endless. I sighed again.

"Have you squired before?" he asked, those blue eyes fixed on me.

I shook my head.

"Well. At least you don't have bad habits to unlearn. Just watch me for a day or two, see how it's done. Don't ever get caught eating, sleeping, or jerking off when you're supposed to be doing something else. It's best if you can manage to learn to go without all three. Myself, I've got it knocked. Now I'm working on not breathing unless he tells me." He smiled again, all friendliness and goodwill, trying to put me at ease. I didn't believe it for a moment. Those sapphire eyes gleamed with mischief. I smiled back in spite of myself. I'd have to become friends with this boy, or we'd be at each other's throats inside a week.

"Does he always give that flogging speech?"

"Nearly," he replied, pulling a lacing tight. "And don't think he doesn't mean it, or you'll learn quick that he does. If he tells you to do something, you do it. You'll listen to me, too, since I'm senior squire now."

He was testing, just a little. "Obedience is vital," I said, totally neutral. "How long have you squired?" With a knighthood, I would no longer be under his eye.

"A year. Two seasons longer than he's kept most of his squires."

"Think he'll knight you soon?"

Éremon paused, shifted the sword clamped between his knees. "Well, I hope not!" His laugh was bright, but forced.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the last two squires of his he knighted, he did it posthumously."

"What?" My jaw dropped. "He said the last one was promoted."

"Doran? He was. Right before we sent him back to his mother in a winding sheet. Every woman wants a knight for a son." He grinned. "Ionvar insists we earn it. He's harder on those of us that live. And he does mad things in the heat of combat. It's not easy to keep up with him." I felt a twinge of nerve at this, but said nothing. "He's a brilliant man, the General. Brilliant, but hard."

I sighed. It just slipped out before I could stop it.

"Oho! You were looking for an easy command, weren't you?" Éremon laughed ruefully. "Baron, are you? Don't expect that your title will save you. You're not a Baron now. You're his squire, until you've earned your rank."

"Lovely."

He drew a knife, tapped me on the leg with the hilt before cutting the thongs off the wrapping and tying them off. "Don't take it so hard. I'm a duke's brat, was even more spoiled than you look when I came in. Thought it would kill me, wanted it to. But it's not so bad. We get time off, some money. He's never whipped me without reason. He doesn't get drunk and embarrass himself. And we get double rations of wine." His grin turned into something harder, sharper; it made his face look like an animal's. "And we get to fight alongside the most bloody incredible General this land has ever seen. That's worth it all."

I grinned back, sighed. "I'll drink to that. What about after? Girls? Camp-followers, laundresses. You know. We get double rations of that, too?"

His lip twitched in a rueful smile. "Don't let him catch you with them unless he's sent them to you. Security. He got knifed that way, right here." He drew a finger along the inside of his thigh. "Almost bled him out. Since then, he vets the girls, and we only get them after he's done, or the ones he decides are safe but doesn't want."

I must have made a face, because he followed up hastily with "The General's seconds are better than most men's firsts. Even if he is a little... well... ."

I know I made a face then; I frowned. "What? Kinky? He like boys or something?"

"God, no," Éremon laughed, went back to tucking the thongs under, tying the loose ends off. Satisfied, he raised the sword, tested the grip. He peered down the blade at me, his words casual. "Just so you know, he's a dragon about fraternization. Not for the line troops. He could give a shit about what they do. But for us. Don't ever let him catch you with a man. He thinks it makes him look bad." He rolled his eyes.

"I don't see a lot of women around here," I remarked. He took my wryness for sourness.

"'Course not. Women can't fight."

I flushed to the collar with anger, but he fortunately didn't see.

Can't fight? We'd see about that.

Continued in Part 3

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